


Hush, My Dear

by TrippinOverMyFandoms



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domesticity, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Some Fluff, i should be sleeping but here I am, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrippinOverMyFandoms/pseuds/TrippinOverMyFandoms
Summary: Oliver isn't a huge fan of being woken up in the middle of the night by something but this something just might come to need his attention.(I'm awful at descriptions for one shots I wrote at 2-3am can ya tell?)
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Slade Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	Hush, My Dear

**Author's Note:**

> This could have gone in the stitches collection under the domestic prompt but I had something better for that and this doesn't fit anything else really so here it is - separate

Something had woken Oliver up, that part was painfully obvious. His eyelids lifted slowly of their own accord, the result of whatever had jostled him from precious sleep. He wasn't sure what it was, however. It wasn't his natural body clock. Not with it being half past three in the morning, as the blaring red lights on his alarm clock told him. There was always a chance the power had gone out in the night and it was really around five or six. Yet, it seemed too dark out for that. 

Either way, he was going back to sleep. 

So he huffed, breathing deeply as he adjusted to get comfortable again. Tuning over to cuddle into Slade's side. Sleeping in the same bed as the man be called husband made him feel comfortable but being so close made him feel safe. His eyes were already closing again. Come morning he was sure he'd forget about waking up randomly. 

Or maybe it wasn't so random. He's just relaxed and fallen back asleep when he's awake again. It's uncertain how much time has past and he can't see Slade's alarm clock from where he is to be sure. Something was wrong. 

Oliver's body tenses now that he's aware of something being amiss. Suddenly he feels more awake, if not angry at whatever has disturbed him. Slade likes to remark on how he isn't a morning person and it was damn sure too early for this. 

He lays there and listens. Maybe someone broke in. Maybe it's just raccoons running on the roof. Maybe there's a mouse. They don't have kids of their own so the spare bedroom is out of the equation. He hopes no one broke in, he doesn't want to get up.

But still he listens, maybe he'll hear it again, whatever it is. 

A minute or two passes and he's about to dismiss it as a critter, when he hears something. A grunt, it's close, very close. Then the bed shifts and Oliver realizes Slade is the source. A few more irregular and small, indescribable noises come from the other man. It's odd because normally Slade is so quiet, an instinct stemming from years of survival. Oliver is about to wake him but his breathing evens and all is quiet. 

But he doesn't let himself fall back asleep for a good twenty minutes just to be sure. Even when he does it isn't as easy as before, he's far too paranoid. However, sleep soon reclaims him.

(-)

"You okay?" Oliver asks as soon as he gets a yawn out of the way. He's descended the stairs to the smell of coffee and Slade who looks too awake for six in the morning. 

He receives a confused look from Slade as he sits at the island. Oliver assess him, up and down without looking too concerned. Maybe it was nothing, perhaps he was just overreacting. There was the possibility he had imagined last night. 

"Yeah," Slade says slowly, clearly confused, "why?" He holds out and empty mug to Oliver in offering but he waves it away. Oliver doesn't really do coffee yet Slade offers it every morning. Gosh this man was too good for him. 

"Nothing, it's nothing. I'm just delusional." Oliver settles on that. It was probably nothing. He watches Slade set down the mug next to the coffee maker and Oliver sort of feels bad. The mug matches the one Slade has in his other hand, a gift from Thea when they bought their house together, and he's never used it. It's only settled when he remembers Slade knows Oliver doesn't drink coffee and only ever makes enough for one cup. 

"You look a little worse for wear though," Slade says, interjecting his staring contest with the mug on the counter, "I don't think I've ever seen your hair sticking up in that many directions before. Might be a new record." Followed by a chuckle that's so Slade it puts Oliver at ease. Guess it was time to get ready for work. If his hair was as bad as Slade said than he needed the two hours before he needed to be in the office. 

(-)

Oliver is as far from happy as it gets when he wakes up at around four in the morning two nights later. This time he knows it's Slade, taking a risk by poking the other man's shoulder. Maybe he had just gotten used to domestic life and wasn't as on edge as he used to be. Heaven forbid he have a snoring problem, Oliver declared in his head at that moment he would be getting a divorce or putting that spare bedroom to use if Slade snored. 

After a few gentle pokes Slade finally roused enough that Oliver could ask, "you okay?" Before his answer came in the form of being suffocated. Okay, maybe not suffocated and more like bear hugged to death but either way Slade had wrapped his arms around Oliver in a rather secure fashion before falling back asleep. Oliver hadn't. Suddenly he didn't feel so at ease, even if he was as close as he possibly could be to Slade. This wasn't totally like him.

(-) 

Oliver descended the stairs in a more cautious manor the next morning. He smelled the coffee and heard all the familiar noises of Slade going about his routine. That was good at least. He was surely overreacting.

He's just about reassured himself that it's all in his head when he sees Slade. He doesn't look nearly as awake as he had the other morning. He's dressed but he looks tired. When had he gotten up? Earlier than five like usual? He almost looked like he hadn't slept at all. 

He must have been staring because Slade asks, "you okay kid?" And he realizes he hasn't stepped off the bottom stair yet. 

"Maybe," he responds with, "are you okay?" Because he was only okay if Slade was.

Slade shrugs before grabbing the spare mug and offering it, like usual. Oliver shakes his head, sure that he wouldn't be able to stomach the liquid even if he wanted it. Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

(-) 

It's to the point Oliver can't sleep. He's become sort of paranoid at this point. It ha been maybe a week since that first night and off and on the disturbances in sleep would occur. Now, he lays awake on his back, listening to Slade's breathing, waiting for anything irregular. Was he sick? Was he dreaming? Oliver didn't know. He wished he did though. Maybe then he could fix it.

That's why he stayed awake tonight. He wanted to know, wanted to fix the problem as best he could. 

He takes in a deep breath, turning his head till he can read the numbers on the clock. It was almost two in the early morning. His eyes were heavy, so heavy. But he had to stay awake. He had to help Slade.

Oliver isn't sure when he fell asleep but he knows he did because he's woken up by Slade who's moving in his sleep and making more noise than usual. This wasn't good. This was way more than the previous nights. 

Oliver is instantly awake, adrenaline carrying him on as he sits up and grabs ahold of Slade's arm as best as he can. He doesn't get a chance to utter the first letter of the other man's name because the physical contact alone is enough to wake him up. 

Oliver is almost frightened at first because it looks like Slade is ready to fight but soon seems to understand he's under no harm. In fact, he stills, staring at Oliver as he wakes up and comes to his senses. Oliver takes the moment to lean back until he's able to turn on the lamp on his own side of the bed. 

"Slade?" He says, squinting against the light until his eyes adjust. The other relaxes slightly, even more so when Oliver places his hand against his cheek, even leaning into it.

"You're not okay," Oliver says, closing the space and pressing his forehead against Slade's. He responds by putting both hands on either side of Oliver's head, taking him in. 

"You were dreaming weren't you," Oliver goes on. He doesn't even think about pressing Slade to talk because he had caught him before once or twice when he just woke up. He's barely verbal but Oliver understands that pretty well as someone who doesn't like waking up in general. 

Slade nods. Something about that knowledge hurts Oliver's heart in a weird way. Just to know that such a problem has been plaguing his loved one hurts him. He takes it personally almost. He can fight a bad dream but he can deal with the after math of the pain it seems to have caused. 

Oliver hugs Slade who returns it. For a little while they stay that way, holding onto each other tight, being in each other's presence.

It's rather shocking when Slade's breathing shutters a few times and then it's obvious to Oliver he's crying. Oliver has never seen Slade really cry. He knows the man is capable of feeling those emotions, or so he's said, he's just never seen it. Usually it's Oliver who's the puddle of tears. 

It makes Oliver cry a little because he knows whatever has hurt Slade has hurt him bad. "It's okay," and if he can possibly hold Slade any tighter he does, "I'm here, it's okay." 

That's all that happens that night. They stay that way until they're calm enough to fall back asleep holding on to each other. 

(-)

They walked down the stairs together the next morning at nine. Despite the events that had passed and how tired they both look Slade still tries to go about his routine, just a little later and with Oliver at the start of it.

"I think," Oliver starts, just as Slade has turned on the sink to fill up the carafe, "I think I'll take some coffee. Please." He somehow manages a small smile. He would have felt like dirt if he had turned it down after what had transpired. 

So they drank coffee together out of their matching mugs at the island, holding hands and exchanging small talk. Enjoying one another is a more ideal setting. 

Oliver still didn't know what he had dreamt about. He didn't press either. All he knew was that Slade had requested Oliver stay home a few nights and not do any vigilante stuff for a bit. Oliver didn't tell him no, wondering if maybe that had something to do with the nightmare.


End file.
